


My Daddy (he treats me so well)

by Shamefuls



Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Age Play, Crying, Desperation Play, Dom/sub, Fluff, M/M, Omorashi, Subspace, Watersports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 12:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13077312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamefuls/pseuds/Shamefuls
Summary: Liam's been a bit stressed recently, and not looking after himself the way he should. He goes to Sam for some punishment and TLC - but, as usual, Sam's got plans and surprises of his own in store for his sweet baby boy...





	My Daddy (he treats me so well)

**Author's Note:**

> For the CR Kinkmeme discord server's Christmas fic exchange! Never has this username been more appropriate. My recipient gave me a whole bunch of options, but this is what I came up with. Hope you like it, friend! This is my first time writing anything ageplay-related, and maybe second time or so writing watersports, so fingers crossed it hits the right buttons.
> 
> (Also yes, that is chapter one of two up there. I have a little aftercare/smut add-on that didn't quite get finished in time, and that I'll polish up and post within the next few days. Something to look forward to!)

“You know why I’m doing this, right?” asked Sam, from where he was leant back in his chair, reading glasses pushed high up on his nose and a thick pile of papers in his hands. What those papers _were_ , Liam wasn’t entirely sure – damned non-disclosure agreements – but it set a remarkably domestic scene for a distinctly _un-domestic_ activity.

Liam swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing as he shifted his weight from one knee to the other, trying to find a comfortable position. The towel beneath him softened the hard tile against his kneecaps a little, as did his jeans, but not enough to stop the ache from creeping through his bones. 

“Because I’ve been- bad?” he asked, a little hesitantly – unsure what, exactly, Sam was angling for.

“Aww, baby boy,” said Sam, gently, setting the papers down on his lap and peering at Liam over the top of his reading glasses. “No, no, of course not. You’re _perfect_.” He smiled, a sappy expression that softened his eyes and parted his lips just enough to show a hint of teeth. Despite the current situation, Liam felt warmth rising in his chest at the sight of it. “I’m doing this because you asked me to, remember?”

Liam sighed, letting his eyes slip closed, shifting his weight yet again. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and the ache was building faster than he was used to. “Yeah,” he mumbled, voice small. “And I asked ‘cos- ‘cos I’ve been bad.”

He felt stupid, even as he said it, knowing how childish and _ridiculous_ he sounded. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel the truth of the words in the pit of his stomach.

“What’ve you done that’s bad, then?” asked Sam, voice still calm and kind, leaning forward a little in his chair to peer down at Liam. Even just knelt on the floor in jeans and that soft, black henley Sam loved on him so much, arms behind his back with each hand clasped around the opposite elbow… well. He made quite the pretty picture most of the time, but right now, it was the _prettiest_ picture, in Sam’s humble opinion.

Shifting yet again – and now it wasn’t just his knees that were aching, but his bladder, the low but increasingly urgent need to go to the bathroom making itself known – Liam shrugged one shoulder, eyes on the floor, chin almost on his chest.

“Not an answer, baby boy.” Sam shuffled the papers on his lap and picked them back up, making as if to go back to work. If Liam was being that reticent, they might be here for a while before he decided to open up, mid-punishment or no. They were at that frustrating stage in a scene where Liam had slipped into his headspace just enough to be a stroppy, _stubborn_ little thing – but not far enough to open up and lean on Sam entirely.

Still, if he had to wait, he could. It wasn’t like _he_ was the one kneeling on the floor, after all. He was fairly sure Liam would crack before he did.

Liam bit his lip, the urge to be good for Sam warring with the shame coiling in the pit of his stomach. “It’s… m’not… not been taking care of myself,” mumbled, eventually, closing his eyes. Logically, the sensible part of his brain knew Sam wasn’t going to judge him for that - would, if anything, be more concerned than judgemental. 

But he wasn’t thinking with the sensible part of his brain right now, steadily slipping down into that odd mental space Sam put him in so easily, where he felt small and lost and _vulnerable_. And little Liam was _ashamed._

Sam hummed in a non-committal manner, careful to keep both pity and judgement out of the noise. Neither of those were what Liam needed right now – neither of those were what he’d asked for. He’d asked for punishment. “Well, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” he said, evenly, smiling a little. “You’ve got your daddy to take care of you now.”

Liam _squirmed_ , shoulders hunching up to his ears, which were turning pink. “...Yeah,” he agreed, quietly, ducking his head down even further. “Yeah, that’s… yeah. You’re right.”

Sam grinned. “I’m always right, baby boy,” he teased – and went back to his papers, ignoring Liam completely but keeping a half-eye on him, to make sure he still looked okay to be continuing. After all, it wouldn’t be long now. Not long until the _real_ punishment begun.

And sure enough… 

“Um, Sammy?” said Liam, softly, maybe ten or fifteen minutes later, eyes still on the floor. His knees were aching, a low sort of numbness to them that he knew meant they were going to _hurt_ when he stood again, and his shoulders were beginning to feel the strain of the position he was holding – but the real problem was the throbbing pressure building between his legs. And it wasn’t the sexy kind of pressure. “Sammy, I, uh. I… need to go.”

“Go?” echoed Sam, sounding supremely unconcerned, even a little _smug_. His eyes didn’t even leave the papers he was still skim-reading, carefully held high enough to hide the smirk curling at his lips. “Where’re you gotta go, baby boy? You said you had this evening free, that’s why I invited you over.”

Liam’s cheeks flushed, a delightful shade of delicate red stretching from the bridge of his nose all the way up to the outer shell of his ears. “No, I- Sammy, D- daddy- I need to _go_.”

When Sam simply looked up, peering at him over the top of the papers he was holding, Liam bit his lip. “To the _toilet_ , Sam,” he gritted out, toes curling in his socks with the shame of it, his blush darkening.

Sam hummed quietly, and looked back down at the papers in his hands. “Oh? That’s a pity,” he said, voice carefully and deliberately even. “Because we’re not done with that punishment you asked for─ not yet.”

Liam _whined_ , a desperate sound, squirming where he was knelt. The ache just above the fork of his legs, despite his best attempts to ignore it, was only getting worse. It was getting to the point where the waistband of his jeans felt like it was digging in right where he was most sensitive, unbearably tight against his swollen-full bladder. “But- _Daddy_ ,” he said, softly, disbelievingly, the word slipping out almost without conscious thought.

“I’m not hearing your word, baby boy,” said Sam, mildly, cocking his head to one side – and when Liam was silent, other than the slight, _panting_ edge of desperation his breath had gotten, he went back to his papers with a grin. “That’s what I thought.”

They’d played games like this before, Sam leaving him with a simple, uncomfortable position to hold, but this… this was different. This wasn’t kneeling on rice, or keeping his arms held out until they ached, or holding a piece of paper to the wall with his nose. This was- god. _God_. 

If Sam didn’t let up soon, he was going to-

No. He couldn’t even think it, it was just too _embarrassing_. He was a grown man, no matter how small he might feel right now. _That_ wasn’t going to happen, no matter what little game Sam was playing here.

But the little game didn’t _stop_. That was the issue. Liam had assumed Sam would give in at some point, when he thought Liam was desperate enough, or humbled enough, or humiliated enough – but he _wasn’t_. He was just sitting there, pretending he wasn’t watching, whilst Liam’s knees ached and his shoulders hunched and the growing pressure in his bladder went from bad to _unbearable._

When he finally couldn’t hold it any more, he didn’t even notice he’d let go, at first. 

There was a sudden _relief_ , so deep he felt it in his bones, and then a heat between his legs. Caught up in the sudden absence of pressure, in the slow exhale of _no more aching pain_ , it took him a long moment to realise what had just happened.

He just knelt there, wide-eyed and shocked, warmth spreading wet through the fabric of his boxers and the denim of his pants. He’d pissed himself. He’d just _pissed himself_ , on Sam’s floor, with Sam watching, like- like a misbehaving puppy, or a _child_ , except he was a grown man who’d just wet himself and soaked through his boxers and jeans, in front of the man he loved- in front of his _Daddy_ …

Abruptly, he burst into tears.

It wasn’t the wetness, exactly, that made him cry. That was easily dealt with – a shower, a washer cycle for his jeans and boxers, and it’d be as if nothing had happened. The _relief_ , though, and the shame, both so different but so _overwhelming_ , twisting his stomach into knots and filling his throat with stones… that was harder to handle.

Sam was at his side in a heartbeat, though, kneeling just off to the side of the soaked towel beneath Liam’s legs and gently pulling him into a hug. “Hey,” he said, soft and calm, letting Liam bury his face into his shoulder. It hurt him to see his boy crying, even though he knew Liam had _needed_ this, had wanted this since he hadn’t safeworded. “Hey, hey, baby, shh. _Shh_. It’s okay, I’ve got you. You did _so well_ , sweetie, I’m so proud of you, shh, I’m here, I’ve got you.”

“I- I- made a mess,” managed Liam, between watery, overwhelmed sobs – struggling to get his breathing under control as he nuzzled into Sam’s shoulder, trying to hide from the world. “M’sorry, _sorry_ -”

“Hey,” said Sam again, gently, petting Liam’s hair, and holding him even tighter. “Hey, none of that. My good boy. My _beautiful_ boy. You did good, you did _so good_.” And here it was, _finally_ , Liam coming apart under his hands, finally settling himself into that distance, spacey headspace, small and vulnerable and _beautiful_. “It’s okay. Hey, it’s _okay_. I’m here, Daddy’s here, and I’m gonna take care of you now, alright?”

Liam sniffed, breath hitching, and nuzzled against the side of Sam’s neck. Sam could feel his every exhale against the sensitive skin there, hot and wet, and if seeing Liam be so _good_ for him – so perfect, struggling so beautifully and then finally _giving in_ – hadn’t gotten him hard, the the feel of his baby boy’s lips and breath against his neck would _absolutely_ have. 

“Yeah,” mumbled Liam, shuddering, breathing finally slowing. “Yeah, you’re gonna… gonna…”

“I always look after my baby boy, don’t I?” soothed Sam, grinning, fingers working slow circles at the base of Liam’s scalp, over the nape of his neck and the tight muscles of his shoulders. He could feel the tension there, easing a little now but still likely painful, and tutted to himself almost silently. That just wouldn’t do, wouldn’t do at all. “Don’t I, huh? It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here now, I’m here. You don’t _have_ to look after yourself. I’ve got you.”

“Yeah.” Liam pulled away a little, just far enough he could look up at Sam and smile a wobbly, _beautiful_ smile – eyes wide and still a little damp but so delightfully _hazy_ and trusting. “Yeah, ‘kay.”

Sam’s grin widened, even as something in his chest _purred_ at the sweet, childish trust in Liam’s eyes and voice. “Good, that’s good. Well done. Such a good baby boy, huh?” He pulled his hand away from Liam’s neck, reluctantly, patting his upper arm. “You want a shower? You made a bit of a mess there, sweetheart. Can’t be nice, sitting there in those wet pants, hmm?”

“Mmm,” agreed Liam, though he made no attempt to move, instead leaning in to nuzzle against Sam’s neck again, loose and sleepy and _calm_ for the first time that evening. “Yeah. Wanna bath.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh, torn between awed and amused at how _abruptly_ Liam had slipped into his headspace, as always – like a light flicking on, giving into it all at once. “A bath, huh? You want bubbles and stuff, baby boy?”

“Yeah.” Liam was making little snuffly noises right next to Sam’s ear, slowly calming down from his earlier tears, cheeks still damp and hot from crying. “Yeah, wanna…” He trailed off, apparently too out of it and emotionally exhausted to even form proper words – or at least, not feeling like talking was worth the effort right now.

“I didn’t hear the magic word,” teased Sam, gently, slipping hands under Liam’s armpits and tugging on him until he finally stumbled to his feet, leaning heavily on Sam to stay upright. It was times like this that Sam wished he was as jacked as Travis was, capable of sweeping Liam off his feet and just carrying him up to the bathroom. As it was, though, he had to settle for supporting him with one arm, and helping him get his soaked jeans and boxers off with the other, fumbling with the button and zipper and tugging them down until Liam could wriggle out of them.

Liam exhaled heavily, tapering off into a pleased whine as he kicked off the damp, cooling fabric of his boxers. “ _Please_ , Daddy,” he said, soft and sweet, nuzzling into the side of Sam’s neck. “Wanna bath, _please_.”

And really, how could Sam say no to such a sweet, polite request from his _beautiful_ baby boy?


End file.
